Eowyn's Quest
by Erid'Lor
Summary: Eowyn goes on a quest to find Wormtongue, who has killed Theoden. A.U., scrambled timeline. My second fanfic, please  review! Chapter 2 is up.
1. Blood Spilled

**Title:** 'Eowyn's Quest'

**Author:** HMS Dreadnought aka Erid'Lor

**Summary:** Eowyn goes on a quest to find Wormtongue, who has killed Theoden.

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Some violence, mild coarse language. Including a decapititated Wormtongue at the end of this short story. Urgh.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, quotes, song lyrics and places belong either to J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema.

**Author's Note:** Please review and review! Bear in mind this is a short story, at most several chapters long. For those of you who like this piece, look out for 'The Erid'Lor'.

Also, in this story, Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli are uninvolved. Aragorn as Thorongil is however- but only slightly. Finally the updates should be two days gap between each. Build the anticipation! And now for Chap. 1.

**Chapter 1: Blood Spilled**

Edoras, the Courts of Rohan, was in mourning. Theoden King was dead- all because of one man, one traitor, one servant of Saruman. Grima Wormtongue had murdered the Lord.

Eowyn and Eomer, the two sister-sons of Theoden, walked slowly through the streets at the head of a somber, slow-moving procession. Six soldiers of Rohan held up the Rohirric King's funeral stretcher. Theoden lay upon the bier, his eyes shut in peace and as if in sleep, his hands clasped over the hilt of Herugrim his sword, which lay upon his chest. He was girt in his war armour, metal gleaming in the Sun's light. Beside him on the bier was the crown which had been forged for him, as each King of Rohan received his own crown made for specially for him upon coronation.

If one had looked upon Theoden's back and through the armour, he would gasp at the ugly wounds inflicted and the blood which soaked the otherwise clean linen shirt he was clothed in.

Wormtongue the Murderer, taking up a knife, had stabbed the Lord five separate times upon an argument of whether Saruman was friend or foe following a brutal attack upon the Westfold by Uruk-Hai and Dunlendings- who bore the standard of the White Hand of Saruman. Wormtongue had fled Edoras immediately after upon a horse and the guards had failed to capture him. He had been spotted riding towards Isengard.

The entire population of Edoras except for the sick lined the streets of the capital, throwing flowers onto the side of the cobblestone path on which the procession of the surviving royalty, soldiers and Knights of Meduseld like Gamling and Hama, walked, some crying at the death of their King, who had brought them good times of peace and friendship with other states. Eomer's face was lined with weariness and tear tracks glistened faintly on his cheeks, the tears themselves dripping from his chin onto the road. Eowyn sobbed quietly into a lace handkerchief, occasionally being wracked by grief as the sobs redoubled.

The city lay quiet as the people of Edoras joined the procession wound its way past them to the mounds in which the lords of the royal line were buried. Civilians wore black clothes while the soldiers wore Rohirric armour, and Edoras was a cemetery- for a little while.

When the procession finally reached the burial grounds, Eowyn broke into the traditional song of death and loss, her voice shaky, but fitting for the occasion.

"_Heo naefre wacode daegred_

_To bisig mid daegeweorcum_

_Ac oft heo wacode sunnanwanung_

_Thonne nihtciele creap geond moras_

_And on thaere hwile_

_Heo dreag tha losinga_

_Ealra thinga the heo forleas_

_Heo swa oft dreag hire sawle sincende_

_He one cuthe hire heortan lusd." _

The soldiers slowly carried the body of Theoden into the heart of the mound, as civilians scattered the white flower of Rohan _Rohinast_ onto the top of the grave. Its fragrant scent rose into the air, mingling with the salty smell of tears. As the soldiers came out from the chamber, a moment of silence was observed for the spirit of Theoden. Then the door to the chamber slammed and was locked.

Theoden was journeying to the Halls of Mandos.

Eomer, Eowyn, Gamling, Hama and the Advisor of Theoden, Thorongil, held a Council of War. Eomer stood up, speaking to each individual, looking his friends in the eye.

"Theoden King has been murdered by Grima Wormtongue. By law I am the rightful heir. But I cannot be Lord of my people until the killer is himself killed as Rohirric law dictates. We must hunt down Grima- and avenge my father's death.

Eowyn interjected, somewhat rudely, and said with fierceness showing on her face, "I will personally chase and kill Wormtongue. I have skill enough with the blade. I am strong enough. Wormtongue has long had an evil glint in his eye when he looks at me- the glint of an evil lust- the glint that Morgoth had when he looked at Luthien Tinuviel. I have this right, to avenge the Kingdom of Rohan, Theoden King, and the Westfold."

Thorongil nodded his approval, and smiled. "You have proved your skill with the blade more than once against me, though you never managed to defeat me. On top of that," he laughed at the thought, "You have not neglected my history lessons either." Gamling and Hama nodded their assent.

Eomer, however, objected. "I will not have my sister to go riding through lands now dangerous on an even more dangerous quest! Wormtongue may be a lying wretch but he is a warrior nonetheless. On top of that he is a servant of Isengard- orcs and wargs and wild men would help him! No, Eowyn, you cannot go. I will not risk your death."

Eowyn smiled bitterly. "Then you will have to chain me up in a prison for otherwise I will go, no matter what you think. I will have my just revenge."

Eomer sighed weariedly, distractingly running his fingers through his hair. "Then if I cannot change your mind, you will go. With my –unwilling- approval."

The next morning, Eowyn, her bags, provisions and supplies packed on put on her horse, mounted the saddle, a sharp blade of the Rohirrim strapped to her side, a helmet on her head, armour on her body. She rode out of Edoras. She would go- for vengeance!

**P.S.** The song, I think, is what Eowyn sang in the movie when Theodred was buried. I think. Not sure, mind you. For those of you who think that a) this chapter is too short, and b) I'm concentrating a little bit too much on details and being slow, this is my reply:

To a) : Well, it IS a short story.

To b): I agree. It's just that I'm trying to recreate that mood of a burial.

Please review and review, no matter the tone or the comments.


	2. Hate's Pursuit

**gTitle:** 'Eowyn's Quest'

**Author:** HMS Dreadnought aka Erid'Lor

**Summary:** Eowyn goes on a quest to find Wormtongue, who has killed Theoden. Chapter 2 is up.

**Rating:** T

**Warning:** Some violence, mild coarse language. Including a decapititated Wormtongue at the end of this short story. Urgh.

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, quotes, song lyrics and places belong either to J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema.

**Author's Note: **Please continue reviewing! Thanks! Review replies are at the bottom.

**Chapter 2: Hate's Pursuit**

_The next morning, Eowyn, her bags, provisions and supplies packed on put on her horse, mounted the saddle, a sharp blade of the Rohirrim strapped to her side, a helmet on her head, armour on her body. She rode out of Edoras. She would go- for vengeance! _

Eowyn rode with all speed towards the village of Huntleth, the first large habitation since Edoras and its outlying villages. A day and a night had passed since she had rode from the capital to seek Grima Wormtongue, and it was evening now. In her mind, Eowyn relived the moments just before leaving Edoras. Eomer had come to the stables.

"I do not wish you hurt, Eowyn. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I am adamant."

Eomer had sighed deeply once more, years of sorrow in which Rohan's strength had declined etched upon his face. "Go then with the blessing of Eomer, Third Marshal of the Mark, and the Rohirrim. May luck be on your side. And ill-will not follow you."

"I thank you. Farewell, Eomer, for a little while."

And she had ridden from him, from Meduseld, from Edoras- on a journey, a journey of hate's pursuit.

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Grima Wormtongue, hooded and cloaked to protect his identity, slid off his horse. A barricade blocked the way into the small village of Greyworn, and obviously the Rohirrim were looking for Theoden's murderer. The five guards are clearly noticed him, and were blocking the way with pikes and shields at the ready. Walking confidently towards them, not looking at all like the sniveling coward he truly was, he asked in a baritone voice lower than his actual reedy one, "I am but a poor traveler, looking for food and lodging for the night. Please let me through."

One of the soldiers- presumably the leader- grunted doubtfully. "Perhaps," he said in a growling tone, "but we have received word of one Grima Wormtongue, former councilor of Theoden King, having murdered him." He jerked his head towards a poster of Wormtongue's face, with the word WANTED painted in large font above the sketch. "Take off your hood, master, then we will let you through if you are not Wormtongue."

Wormtongue reached for his hood, as if to take it off, then his hand flashed over his back and he pulled out a glinting sword, quickly slashing the leader's neck. Blood flowed from the wound, pouring down, and the man dropped to the ground. For all his cowardice Wormtongue was still a skilled swordsman, for all his cowardice Wormtongue was not afraid to kill.

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Eowyn galloped into the town of Huntleth, famous for the skill of its bowmen and hunters, hence its name. She had been here before as a young teenager, when her father Eomund competed in an archery competition and won. Eomund had been killed by orcs the next year. Orcs of Isengard. Eowyn's eyes shone with a light of anger, and she jumped down from her horse, striding into the inn to find a room where she could sleep and get some decent food, not dreary honey cakes which were called _cram _by the dwarves and given to her by Eomer. The last time she was here she had savoured a feast by the innkeeper, Gamdor. She could almost taste roast venison, duck, and the warmth of drinks in her mouth as she savoured the anticipation of a good meal.

Nothing remotely like what she was expecting was what she got, and a scene of chaos greeted her eyes. Overturned tables, smashed glass on the floor, at least fifteen men brawling away, including the normally friendly and pacifist innkeeper.

"You can't do this to me! I tell you it's against the law!" shouted the innkeeper, exchanging blows with another man Eowyn recognized as the sheriff.

"It is entirely within my right, idiot! Give me all of your profits, all two thousand coins of it, or I'll lock you up in the jailhouse! You are guilty of disobeying the sheriff's tax and disobeying the sheriff himself!" The sheriff replied with vehemence. "Men, seize him!"

Immediately, seven of the men began to drag the flailing innkeeper away. Seven more, obviously friends of the innkeeper, tried to stop them but to little avail. Then Eowyn stepped forth, out of the shadows near the door where she had been standing.

"And what is this sheriff's tax?" she inquired loudly. Everyone froze for a moment, shocked, absorbing the fact that they had been fighting (albeit unknowingly) in the presence of Rohan's Princess.

The sheriff attempted to stutter out some excuse for his nonexistent tax, and the soldiers hung their heads in shame, thinking they would be punished.

Eowyn, rather angry at this blatant corruption, snapped, "Take him away, soldiers, and give him fifty lashes of the whip. Sheriff, you are removed from your post. Maybe this will teach you a lesson which you won't forget."

The guards, relieved that they had been let off with no punishment, hauled the protesting sheriff to the jailhouse for his punishment.

The innkeeper mopped his brow, and said, "Well, if this ain't the greatest mess in this inn! Thank you for yer aid, lady." He paused for a moment, then added, "Would you like a bite to eat and a place to stay for the night? We've heard about your quest to get that traitor Wormtongue."

Eowyn accepted the offer. Obviously.

At dawn's first light the next morn, Eowyn slipped out of the inn and rode on Wormtongue's trail once more after paying the innkeeper.

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Later, she was riding through a densely wooded forest, her horse Halerth cantering along the dirt path. She did not know the danger she was in…, that is until an arrow came whistling through the air and pierced Halerth, and with a wild neigh, the horse fell on her side, flinging Eowyn into the brush. Twenty bandits with drawn swords swarmed towards her and surrounded her, and Eowyn groaned.

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**NightFarer: **As I said, it was meant to be draggy- it was a burial remember! Thanks for the compliments.

**Sarahbarr17: **This is AU, so the timeline is scrambled. Anyhow, Eowyn is,eh,different.

Thanks for reviewing!


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